


Who Wears the Crown Here?

by vivilove



Series: Jonsa Drabbles [21]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, F/M, Jon Snow is King in the North, Jon's got a new kink, Sansa tries on Jon's crown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26805421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: She shouldn’t do this. It’s not proper. It’s probably treasonous or something. Still, a wife can be curious, can’t she? Aren’t they supposed to share things?Alone in Jon’s chambers, where she has no real reason to be tonight, Sansa finds herself staring at his crown. It’s sitting on the padded cushion she’d made for it, made for him.He never wears it. Hates it from what she can tell. Deep down, he still doubts he's worthy of it, she suspects.Carefully, she picks it up, stands before the mirror and places it atop her auburn hair.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Jonsa Drabbles [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1190203
Comments: 68
Kudos: 247
Collections: Jonsa Autumn Drabbles 2020





	Who Wears the Crown Here?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Castalya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castalya/gifts).



> For Day Six's prompt- clothing (Guess I can count a crown, right?) The crappy photo edit is all mine but I had fun making it anyway.
> 
> Happy Early Birthday to the fabulous Castalya! 🎂 Thank you for all your incredible support the past few years 💕

She shouldn’t do this. It’s not proper. It’s probably treasonous or something. Still, a wife can be curious, can’t she? Aren’t they supposed to share things?

Alone in Jon’s chambers, where she has no real reason to be tonight, Sansa finds herself staring at his crown. It’s sitting on the padded cushion she’d made for it, made for him.

He never wears it. Hates it from what she can tell. Oh, he’s accepted being king, doing quite well at it even if he should listen to her more. He just doesn’t care for the crown.

It’s finely made though. The bronzesmith had been so proud presenting it to the King in the North, saying he’d fashioned it like Robb’s to the best of his ability, an open circlet incised with runes and nine iron spikes wrought to resemble longswords.

Jon had thanked the man politely, worn it for all of an hour and it’s sat here ever since. Deep down, he still doubts he's worthy of it, she suspects.

Carefully, she picks it up, stands before the mirror and places it atop her auburn hair.

“Queen in the North,” she murmurs under her breath, looking at her reflection.

It’s not that she resents him. It’s not that she really wants it. It just would’ve been nice to have been considered at the very least. But the lords wanted a king over a queen and had chosen her cousin. They've made him their king and he's made her his wife with the war’s ending.

Her neck feels stiff from holding her head so straight with it on. It is dreadfully heavy. Of course, it is a man’s crown. She would prefer something a little lighter, perhaps silver instead of bronze. If her husband ever considers having one made for her, she might like…

“What are you doing?”

Startled, she turns to find she's no longer alone. How had he entered without her hearing him?

“I’m sorry, Your Grace!” she yelps.

He scowls. She never calls him that. Why would she? They have always been Jon and Sansa to each other.

But he looks so kingly tonight and she is in his private chambers uninvited. He comes to her in the night, not the other way around. Theirs is a marriage of duty, not love.

“What are you doing in here, wife?” 

Wife. He only calls her wife when he visits her chambers in the night, usually when he's panting against her neck, when his manhood fills her as he rocks his hips and…

She is suddenly short of breath.

“I was just looking for an, um…scroll. I was only…” She bites at her bottom lip and wrings her hands. He has made a miserable liar of her. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I was only curious to try it on.”

His eyes rake her, his face inscrutable when he says, “Take it off…slowly.”

The words are a raw rasp. Is he angry?

But that ‘slowly’ has made her heart race. That shameful fluttering ache begins to build in her loins.

She tries to keep quiet like a lady should when he visits her bed but he has figured out that she likes it. She is coming to love it actually and Jon has been coming to his wife’s bed more often of late. Of course, they tell each other it’s because an heir is expected. She doesn’t remember when she bled last. She should tell him that. She doesn’t want to. What if he stops paying his visits?

“I’m sorry,” she tells him again, her hands reaching to remove the crown.

“No.”

Her hands freeze with the way his voice cracks like a whip.

“Don’t say sorry again and don’t remove the crown.” He stalks towards her. “Leave it on.” His eyes dip down towards her breasts. “Take your dress off is what I meant. Take it off… _slowly.”_

Gods, she can barely stand still now with the way he’s looking at her, with the heady anticipation of what those dark eyes are promising. She’s afire for him.

Gently, he raises one hand, strokes her cheek, lets his thumb graze her lip, smirks when she whimpers at the touch, trails his hand downward then until he’s got part of her bodice fisted in that hand like he might tear her dress off of her at any second.

“It’s heavy,” she says, glancing upward to indicate the crown.

“I’ll have one made that suits you, my lady. But for now…will you wear it for me?”

“If that would please you,” she whispers.

“It would. Take this dress off…slowly. Take it off for me. I want to watch you.”

She does. She takes it off slowly, can feel his eyes hungrily devouring her even when she’s not looking at him, like a wolf.

She’s shivering in her small clothes with nothing else on but the crown. “Like this, Jon?” she asks, cupping his cheek and waiting for him to carry her to his bed. She's not afraid of this wolf.

Their marriage is one of duty…but that does not mean it cannot be a loving one as well.

“Aye, like that.”

He doesn't carry her to bed. He sinks to his knees instead. He kisses her navel, his hands rub up and down her thighs. She’s near swooning. He whisks her smallclothes away, lightly pinches a nipple. Her back arches and she suppresses a squeal of delight.

“No, no. That will not do. Let me know if I please you. Keep wearing my crown and let me serve you tonight, wife.”

She nods rapidly as she feels him exhale, feels his nose and mouth pressing kisses to her heated flesh.

The crown wobbles perilously so she steadies it with one hand…as the other grips his hair. Her eyes slide shut and her mouth parts in expectation of sweet surrender. 

Her king is as good at serving as he is at ruling. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
